Feelings
by Serenity2893
Summary: "What do you feel?" The question is hesitant, coming out in a hushed whisper. Jack doesn't quite understand how to respond. In fact, he doesn't understand the question itself. (Minor Spoilers for the movie) Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Feelings

**A/N: Yay, my first fanfiction. I watched Rise of the Guardians yesterday, and I felt the need to ruin it with my bad fanfiction. So basically, this takes place during Sandy's funeral/memorial thingy in the movie. I added and changed a few things though.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

* * *

Jack finds it hard to breathe as he watches the Guardians mourn the death of their friend. He hangs in the background and simply stares at the floor. Tooth is crying, choked sobs wrenching out of her throat and shaking her thin frame. Bunnymund and North gaze sadly at the words carved in the ground.

The sadness in the room is overpowering.

North looks over at the weeping Tooth and gently takes her hand. She looks surprised for a moment, but soon accepts the gesture. They all realize how important it is to stay together now. Bunnymund repeats the action with North.

The silence is deafening.

Jack digs his nails into his arms, and rapidly blinks. His throat feels stuck, and each swallow is dry.

No one says a word, and the room is quiet, with the exception of a few sniffles from Tooth.

The floor has never seemed more interesting than it does now.

A single feather falls from Tooth, and it lands on the ground. For a second, everyone stares at the feather. All eyes are locked on the seemingly insignificant object. Tooth scoops it up in her hand. The feather is crushed, and, with a scream of anguish, the fairy sinks to the floor, bawling into her hands.

Jack can't bear to be here for another moment. He turns and walks out of the room.

But the feeling, the one that makes his heart ache and his throat burn, doesn't go away.

* * *

Feelings are actually quite new to Jack. In all of the 300 years of his existence, he has mainly known happiness and some loneliness. Grief, anguish, horror, fear, and guilt are foreign, and he does not quite know how to deal with them. He absentmindedly traces intricate patterns on fragile glass with his finger.

When Pitch's arrow sunk into Sandy's back, Jack experienced a strange jolt inside of him. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs and his breath quicken. What was that? Horror? Fear? He suspects that it was both. Has he felt something like that before? He doesn't think so. At least, not in this life, the life that he can remember. He has never really cared about someone long enough to be able to.

Jack knows, for a fact, that he was feeling guilt when he watched Tooth cry. Guilt is _very_ unfamiliar to him. He has never felt bad for anything before, really. Not for messing up Easter, not for hitting kids with snowballs, not even for causing cars to crash on icy roads. But this...this was something different. He cared about Sandy, because Sandy was the first person he considered a true friend, and then, Sandy got killed because of him. Maybe Jack is meant to be alone.

And now, his mind is plagued with 'what ifs'

_What if he could have gotten to Sandy sooner..._

_What if he could have stopped Pitch from firing the arrow..._

_What if, what if, what if._

Jack assumes that the 'what ifs' are a part of guilt.

Grief and anguish, those are obviously from losing a friend.

A friend. Another alien concept to him.

Jack is tired of the strange feelings and terms.

Confusion. Well, that's not new.

And then, there's always the last emotion.

The one he tries to keep hidden away, the one he does not want to acknowledge, the one he wishes he could be without.

Rage.

* * *

False smiles and forced laughs are useful in masking the truth. Jack uses these with a mastery that he should not have.

In truth, he hates the moon. The moon put him here, cursed him into a world where no one could see him, where no one could touch him, where no one _believed _in him. The moon stole his memories and left him to rot on Earth for centuries, before finally handing him a purpose. And even then, the moon did not tell him. The moon told the guardians.

_"The man in the moon chose you, Jack."_

_"T-the man in the moon...wait, he **talks** to you?!"_

_(He talks to them.)_

_(He talks to **them**.)_

_(He does not talk to you.)_

_(He. Talks. To. Them.)_

Every night wasted praying, pleading, _begging_ for an answer, were all useless, because the moon probably hadn't even been listening to him. All that time that he spent asking the moon for even the _slightest _clue of why he exists, the moon had ignored him, and talked to the _Guardians_.

He hates the Guardians too.

They only pick him up _now, _instead of sometime along the past 300 years. They only bother to spare him a second glance because only _now_ do they need him! And when they are done needing him, he'll just go back to being trash again.

Jack wonders if his hate makes him like Pitch.

* * *

A part of him actually _agrees _with Pitch.

_"Maybe, I want what you have! Maybe, I want to be believed in!"_

Jack finds too many similarities between him and the Nightmare King to be comfortable.

Pitch's goal is driven by the need to be believed in. Jack _knows _this feeling. He's been walked through and ignored, and unheard, and unseen.

He just wants to be seen.

He just wants to be heard.

_Is that too much to ask?_

* * *

The light sheet of frost on the glass has grown larger, the pattern extending to the very top. He rests his head against the glass and raises a hand to touch the pattern. A single tear leaks out of his eye. It freezes before it hits the ground, and shatters into a million pieces upon impact. A lump has formed in his throat, and his heart hurts. He does not want to think about what he is feeling now, but it comes to him anyway.

Loss.

* * *

**So yeah, it's probably really disjointed and hard to follow, but oh well.**


	2. Dreams

**A/N: A couple of people said that they wanted another chapter or something, so here it is. The whole 'Jack slowly letting go of his anger' thing came from Raven2547's review. Keyword being slowly.**

* * *

He isn't quite sure when the dreams first started. Jack shouldn't be needing sleep anyway. But, every night, he catches himself slowly drifting off, his eyelids drooping, and so, he sleeps. He doesn't want to sleep, because when he sleeps, he dreams. He can't even classify these dreams as nightmares, because they really aren't. They do not make him awaken in terror, thrashing and kicking out at empty space.

No.

He finds himself slowly blinking away sleep, only to discover every muscle in his body tensed and his hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palm. He feels uncontrollably _angry_ for no reason at all. There should be a reason right? Something in his dream must be making him angry. That is not the case. Jack is sure of this. Why?

He dreams of nothing.

Nothing at all. Unless, you count a big, white, _empty _blank as something. Which Jack doesn't.

Somehow, it's still a dream.

* * *

He stares at the trees that surround his eternally frozen lake and tries to stay awake. Frosty patterns begin to trail across the nearest tree. The patterns remind him all too well of Sandy's funeral and the emotions that came with it. That's all in the past now. He's a _Guardian, _he has believers, and he's done being alone.

But he's not done with the rage.

His dreams are proof of that.

* * *

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but of course, he never does. One minute he's staring across the lake, and the next, his hand is pressed to his bloody lip that he bit in his sleep. Jack makes a decision. He needs help. He grabs his staff and lets the wind carry him away.

The moon watches overhead, like a pearl in the midst of darkness.

* * *

He watches as Tooth bustles around her palace, flanked by mini fairies. She doesn't seem to notice him yet. He almost starts to feel like he's invisible again until Tooth finally catches sight of him. Letting out an excited squeal, she zips over to him and delivers a tight hug. She attempts to open his mouth, just to look at his teeth, but is stopped by the sight of blood staining her finger.

"Jack, what happened?"

"I...bit my lip." He gives the obvious answer.

Tooth looks at him in concern. "Oh, that's not a big deal. We can get that fixed in a instant! But...that's not what you came here for, is it?"

Jack shakes his head, starting to think of a way to explain his predicament.

"I've been having these...dreams." He begins awkwardly.

"Nightmares?" Tooth's magenta eyes widen.

"No, just...dreams." He doesn't understand why he continues to hesitate to call them dreams.

Tooth relaxes, but not completely. "If they're just dreams, then what's wrong about them?"

"The dreams, well, um, they're about...nothing." Jack realizes how utterly ridiculous and stupid he sounds at the moment. Tooth's face is a picture of confusion. He can't blame her. It's not like he understands himself either. "I mean, my dream is basically a white space. That's not really something, is it? But, when I wake up, I'm..well, I'm...sort of...angry."

Jack stares at the walls of the palace, all too aware of Tooth's gaze fixed upon him, and the blood dripping from his lip.

"So...you're...angry?" Tooth must think that he's a nut.

"Not now, I'm not. It's just when I first wake up. It's like I was angry when I slept, and when I woke up, the anger vanished."

"And you're telling me this because...?" Tooth's tone is gentle and inquisitive.

"I-I want to know how to get rid of them. I don't like them." By now, several mini fairies have turned to stare at him and Tooth, so Tooth steers him in a different direction and leads him to another room. He sits down in an overly-fluffy chair and drops his head into his hands while Tooth mulls over what he said.

"...Jack, what I'm thinking is maybe you need to...let go for a little while."

Jack doesn't move.

"I mean, you've been angry for so long, and you don't just forget all that. It's-...Jack? Jack? Are you even listening to me?" Tooth looks at the unresponsive boy. "Um...Jack?" Tooth almost reaches over and pokes him, but something stops her in her tracks. A faint snoring sound is coming from Jack.

_He's...sleeping?_

She observes him for a little while longer, and sure enough, his hands clench and his body is rigid. Tooth is lost on what to do, when suddenly, Jack jerks his head up. A scowl is set on his face, something that definitely is not normal. He's disoriented for a minute, but as soon as his gaze focuses on Tooth, his clouded eyes clear and he glares at her with burning hatred.

"Jack..." She stretches out a tentative hand toward him. He jumps out of the chair, still glaring at Tooth.

"_I hate you!_" Jack staggers backwards, breathing heavily.

It's only three words, but Tooth is surprised at how much they _hurt._

"I hate you, and North, and Bunnymund, and Sandy, and all the rest of you!_" _

Tooth feels tears prick at her eyes. "J-Jack...you don't mean that!"

"_I do!" _His eyes narrow into slits. "Y-you, you, you left me alone for 300 years! A-and you, Tooth! You had my memories _right here, in this palace, all along!" _

She wants to believe that everything he's saying is just a side effect of the dream; that he doesn't realize what he's saying. She can't.

"I could have known who I was, Tooth! And you kept it from me! Do you know how many times I asked _him _for help?!" He points savagely at the moon, which is visible through the windows. "But he never gave me an answer, and neither did you! Y-you're just as bad as him!" He glares at Tooth, then to the moon.

"_I hope you're hearing this. And you better be listening this time!" _With a final look at Tooth, Jack throws open the window and launches himself out.

* * *

He lands on the snow covered grounds of Burgess and walks to his lake. For some deranged reason, he decides to continue talking to the moon who will probably never listen.

"I am Jack Frost, and I am not your toy!" He slams his staff into the ground, creating icy veins that fan out across the snow. "_Why _didn't you give me answers before? _Why _did you ignore me for all these years? _Why _did you speak to _them, _the Guardians, and not to _me?! Why _aren't I important enough for you to _care?! __Why _are you being such a coward and hiding up in that little safe haven of yours, instead of facing me?! _WHY?!" _

He drops to his knees, utterly exhausted and tired and scared and hurt and just so _angry_.

The moon watches overhead, like a pearl in the midst of darkness.

* * *

**So...what did you think? Should I continue this?**


	3. Anger

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. Something about this chapter made it hard to write. Anyway, yay, people like this story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited. Btw, chapter 1 takes place during the events of the movie, and all the chapters after it take place after the movie.**

* * *

_Water._

_It's everywhere. _

_For a second, he's suspended in the mass of liquid, feeling oddly at peace. _

_Then he realizes that he **can't breathe.**__He thrashes wildly, fighting to get to the surface, and trying to ignore the painful burning in his lungs**. **_

_He realizes that he'll never get there. His fingers will never find purchase on a sharp edge of ice. He will never feel pure, sweet oxygen enter his lungs. He will never live again. He will never see his family. _

_That doesn't stop him from trying though. Pure adrenaline courses through his veins as the need to inhale grows stronger by each passing second. His mind is slowly giving away to instinct, and the temptation to breathe gets stronger._

_But he** can't breathe. **_

_He finally gives in, and waits for death to welcome him. Darkness lurks in the corners of his vision, and he gives one desperate, last look to the surface. There's nothing. Nothing except for the pitch black sky. Suddenly, in the midst of all that darkness, a beautiful light, standing out like a pearl, appears._

_The moon is the last thing he sees before he takes a breath and water fills his lungs._

_He closes his eyes._

_When he next awakens, he is staring at a moon, one that holds importance to him. He does not know who he is or where he is, but he looks at the moon and he's not afraid._

_The moon is special to him._

_He just doesn't know why._

* * *

Jack is screaming, and he knows that this dream is different from the rest. Tears make their way down his face as he gasps for breath. He needs oxygen, he needs it desperately because in his dream, he _couldn't breathe. _When he finally manages to calm down, he begins to make a list inside his head, a list of why this dream was different from all the other times.

_1) He didn't wake up angry, he woke up **terrified. **_

_2) This wasn't a dream, it was nightmare. _

_3) This time, the dream, nightmare or not, was not nothing._

* * *

When North comes to collect him, wanting to talk to him about yesterday's lashing out at Tooth, Jack feels a strange sense of calm. He replies to North's frustrated speech with one syllable words and half-hearted apologies. He can feel North's eyes on his back as he walks out of his office.

He asks the wind to take him home.

The breeze carries him across the planet, its destination being Burgess. He makes it halfway through the town before his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

_No! Not here! Not now! I'm flying! I can't sleep! _

But of course, he can't stop the inevitable, and soon, he's falling through the air. By the time a tendril of black sand snakes around his waist, he's too deep into sleep to notice.

* * *

He awakens, and the first thing he notices is darkness. He looks around with bleary eyes until they come to rest upon a shadowy figure. At first, he's not sure if it's who he thinks it is. Then he hears its voice, and he knows exactly who it is.

"Jack, Jack, Jack. Honestly, you should really be more careful when you fly. You're very lucky that I was here to catch you." Pointed teeth are shown as Pitch smiles.

Jack narrows his eyes. "How are you still alive? I thought your nightmares dragged you away?" He unconsciously reaches for his staff, which, to his surprise, is right next to him. He points it at the Nightmare King.

The smile slips for a fraction of a second, only to return, wider than ever. "Oh Jack, dear boy, put the stick down. I just want to talk for a while." Pitch walks behind Jack and puts a hand on his shoulder. The winter spirit shrugs it away, suppressing a shiver. "As for my existence, well, fear is never truly gone. There's always a soul that contains the least bit of insecurity, cowardice, maybe even...anger."

Blue eyes widen as Jack stiffens. His grip tightens on his staff. The hand returns to his shoulder, and for the first time in his immortal life, Jack feels very cold.

"Got nothing to say? Don't worry, I'll do the talking."

"I don't need to listen to you. What I need to do is destroy you."

"Well, yes, I suppose that you could do that as well. The door's right there. You can go and run off to your little Guardian friends and tell them that I'm here. They'll probably forgive you for making Toothiana cry. Then, when everything's all said and done, you can go back to being Jack Frost, and the Guardians can continue to pretend that they understand you. Yes, you can do all this, and you will never be able to solve this little...problem of yours. Or, you can stay for a while. Nightmares and fear _are _my area of expertise after all. I know what you feel. Do they?" Pitch whispers into his ear.

_No, of course they don't. _

A thought in the back of his mind appears. He remains where he is, but doesn't lower his staff.

"Good. You see Jack, we are _very _alike."

"I'm _nothing _like you!"

"Are you really?" Pitch turns Jack around so that he faces him. "Then why do you despise the Guardians so much? The moon?"

"I don't hate either of them!"

"Then what was your little rant with Tooth about?" Pitch's teeth seem to gleam in the darkness. "What are your dreams about?"

"I dream of a big, white, blank!" Jack retorts, not knowing what it has to do with the moon.

"Exactly! What is big and white? I'll give you a hint. _It's in the sky._" The last part is a whispered hiss.

Jack puts it all together in one terrifying instant.

_He dreams of the moon. _

"Now you see."

Jack is snapped out of his thoughts and realizes that Pitch is so close to his face that he can see exactly how sharp the point of the Nightmare King's teeth are. His heart speeds up, and on instinct, he screams, "Get away!" He pushes Pitch off of him, and Pitch flies into the wall.

Jack doesn't know whether to feel victorious or horrified. He's about to ask if Pitch is okay, but a low growl interrupts him. Pitch stands up, robes smoking, and his whole demeanor changes. Once eerily friendly, he's now absolutely furious.

"I try to help you, and _this _is the reward I get?!"

His glare is so intense that Jack feels the urge to turn and run away. Pitch moves so fast that Jack barely has time to blink before he finds himself on his back. A boot grinds into his ribs, making him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. He writhes under the weight, struggling to get free. He can't.

"Admit it! You're like me, and you know it! Those _Guardians, _they see the world in white and black! Evil and Good! But you and I know that the lines are a lot more blurred than that! Do you think that they were being _good _when they left you alone for 300 years?! Do you think they were being _good _when they blamed you for ruining Easter when it never was your fault?! Do you think the Man in the Moon was being _good _when he stole your memories?! But nooooooo! It's all 'Pitch is evil! Pitch is bad!' Everything I do is _evil_ when I just want to be believed in!"

With each word, Pitch puts more weight onto the foot that is crushing Jack's ribcage.

"I've been walked through! Unseen! Unheard! For the longest time, I was weaker than a bug! No one believed in me! And for the people that could see me, the _Guardians, _all they wanted to do was rid the world of me forever! The world _needs _fear! The _Guardians _need fear! If there was no fear, then there would be no darkness! People wouldn't sleep! If people didn't sleep, then the Sandman would be out of a job! News flash, Sandy! No dreams means NO BELIEVERS! I'D LIKE TO SEE _YOU _HAVE NO BELIEVERS FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS! I'D LIKE TO SEE ALL THE GUARDIANS HAVE NO BELIEVERS FOR THAT LONG!" Pitch isn't even talking to Jack anymore, he's shouting at the absent Guardians. However, Jack still feels the pressure on his chest increasing.

Pitch jerks his head up at the ceiling.

"I HOPE YOU'RE HEARING THIS! YOU BETTER BE LISTENING THIS TIME!"

With a chill, Jack realizes that he's said those exact words before.

"YOU CREATED ME, AND NOW YOU SEND A BUNCH OF _GUARDIANS _TO DESTROY ME!" Pitch smiles insanely and looks down at the winter spirit. He looks back up, as if he can see the moon through the dark ceiling.

"I'll show you what happens to your precious Guardians."

A snap echoes through the air, soon followed by Jack's screaming. Pitch takes his foot off of the boy and kicks him away. Jack curls into a ball, one hand clutching his chest. Pain races though his body with each breath he takes. The world goes fuzzy for a few moments. He barely hears Pitch continue shouting at the moon.

"I'M PITCH BLACK, AND LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO! ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION TO ME _NOW?!" _

He moves toward the figure on the floor and wraps his fingers around Jack's neck. He lifts him up and pins him to the wall, earning a strangled yelp from the winter spirit. Pitch pulls back his free hand, curls it into a fist, and thrusts it into Jack's broken ribs. Pitch's maniacal laughter almost drowns out the shrieks Jack is emitting.

"AREN'T YOU GOING TO STOP ME?! OR ARE YOU GOING TO HIDE UP THERE LIKE THE COWARD YOU ARE, RELYING ON THE _GUARDIANS _FOR HELP?! WELL, LOOK AT WHERE THIS GUARDIAN IS NOW!"

He throws Jack on the floor and looks down at him with disdain. Taking several deep breaths, he manages to calm down. The insane smile, however, remains on his face.

"Oh Jack, I _was _planning on letting you leave, but I don't think I can do that now."

Jack looks up at him weakly. Pitch snaps his fingers and the door disappears, along with Jack's hopes.

"But since I'm feeling nice, I'm going to help you with your sleeping problems. I'll replace those dreams of the moon. You won't feel angry anymore." Pitch sprinkles a bit of black sand onto Jack's face.

"I'll be taking my leave."

Jack can feel himself falling asleep, and he futilely tries to fight it.

"One last thing, though. My goals are driven by the need to believed in. You used to want to be believed in too. If I had found you first, instead of the Guardians, where would you be now? Think about it."

Pitch melts into the shadows.

* * *

_Jack does not need to think about it. He already has._

* * *

**I hope I did Pitch's character justice. I'm not that good at writing villains. But I read somewhere that apparently, you just throw in a bunch of torture and voila! A good villain. So that's what I did. Hopefully, it worked. **


	4. Revelations

**A/N: I'm really, really, really sorry for the late update. It's because that this story has no real plot, and I actually do not know where I'm going with it. It started out as a oneshot, after all, so I had to take some time to think of a suitable plot. This chapter kinda counts more as a filler than anything else. Sorry, I know that it probably wasn't worth the wait.  
**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed.**

* * *

_"Jack...I'm scared." Jamie clutches the side of Jack's blue sweatshirt in a death grip. Jack tries to remember the last time that this happened, the last time the brown haired child had felt pure fear. He doesn't say anything, only swallows nervously and gives a feeble smile in the kid's direction._

_Something is not right here._

_It's not because Pitch is lurking in the shadows, with his yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. Jack can't quite put his finger on it, but something is very, very wrong. He looks around to see the ones that he can safely call allies. Feathers are rapidly dropping from Tooth, North is a far cry from the strong, laughing Russian swordsman that he used to be, and Bunnymund has been reduced to, well, a bunny. Other than that, nothing's abnormal about them. _

_What could it be?_

_A shadow twitches as a dark chuckle cuts through the silence. Everyone immediately turns toward the noise, some at a slower pace than others. They all tense, ready for a fight. A small whimper escapes Jamie's lips and Pitch seems to be amused by it. _

_"It's absolutely WONDERFUL to see you all like this. So weak, so frail, so...invisible. You don't know how NICE it is to see you depending on a single small child for survival." Pitch is suddenly in front of them, sneering at them with hungry eyes._

_Jamie tries to create some distance between the Nightmare King and himself. His pitiful efforts are rewarded with a malicious cackle._

_"Ha! Oh, this is rich!" Pitch mocks Jamie's attempts to practically bury himself into Jack's clothes. "The child, he thinks YOU'RE protecting HIM!"_

_Jamie turns his face away from the yellow eyes and mumbles something incomprehensible. Pitch raises an eyebrow an leans in closer, cupping his hand to his ear._

_"What was that? I didn't quite catch that."_

_The reply is a soft whisper, and the words make Jack's false smile even more forced and his insides clench in an unfamiliar feeling for an unknown reason._

_"I said...I said that I'm not afraid of you."_

_Pitch's smile widens and his eyes practically sparkle with delight. "If you're not afraid of me, child, then WHAT are you afraid of?"_

_A feeling of dread bubbles up inside of Jack, because Pitch shouldn't be asking that question at all, Pitch already knows the answer, already knows everyone and everybody's fears. _

_Pitch is not asking Jamie the question to know the answer. _

_"I..I...him." The answer is shy and afraid, and Jack knows who Jamie is talking about._

_Jamie is talking about him._

* * *

He is reasonably alarmed after waking up from the dream, and it takes him a full minute to calm his racing heart and asses his surroundings. The nightmare must have been the work of Pitch, obviously, and Jack mulls this over for a while. A strange sense of peace is cloaking his mind, shielding him from something. A small part in his brain encourages him to cut through the peace. He stops himself. There is something terrible waiting down that path, and he can feel it. He nervously fingers the patterns on the sheets of the bed.

Wait..._what?_

The memory hits him full force, like a runaway train, and he nearly falls to ground in shock. In startlingly perfect clarity, he remembers the feel of bones cracking under a heavy foot and thick, viscous, coppery liquid filling the back of his throat. Gingerly, he touches the injured parts of his chest, only to find that they have been bandaged and long healed.

_What?!_

Did the Guardians somehow find him? Is he dreaming lucidly? Did Pitch...?

No. Impossible.

Why would Pitch even _think _of healing him?

The possibility is quite unreal.

No.

Pitch is in no way, at all, humane.

Jack has to be somewhere, somewhere other than Pitch's lair. The North Pole, Tooth's Palace, even Bunnymund's Warren.

Unfortunately, the black walls and floor made from nightmare sand tell him otherwise.

Which means he's still in Pitch's lair and has no chance of escape, unless Pitch has a change of heart.

Which, of course, is highly unlikely.

* * *

Tooth flits nervously around North's workshop, anxiously waiting for North to return.

She had come to the Pole with a few concerns about a certain winter spirit, and had been disappointed when North was nowhere to be found. Tooth _had _tried to inquire on his whereabouts, but she didn't exactly speak Yeti.

She takes a few deep breaths, and tries to calm down, but she cannot stop her gaze from constantly returning to the clock.

The minutes slowly go by, and there is still no sign of North. An elf runs up to her and offers her a cookie, but she brushes him off without a second thought.

She's just about to leave when she hears a set of heavy footsteps. North bursts in.

"Ah, Tooth! The Yetis told me you were here!" He greets her merrily and snatches a cookie from an annoyed elf's platter. Tooth is slightly annoyed at him for being so flippant. Does he not notice the absence of Jack?

Clearing her throat, she voices her concerns. "Have you seen Jack anywhere? I mean, usually, he's off somewhere, having a snowball fight or freezing your elves. Do you think that something happened to him? I mean, he has been having those dreams..."

North frowns and stops munching on his cookie. "Dreams? What dreams?"

Tooth's eyes widen in surprise. "He didn't tell you?"

"I was not aware that he had been sleeping in the first place. What did he tell you of these dreams? Were these Sandy's dreams or..."

"They weren't nightmares, he said. He said that they were dreams, but they were about nothing. I don't think it was Pitch who caused them. I mean, after all, he _is _dead."

North furrows his brow in thought. He continues munching, with increased intensity. After a long period of chewing, he comes to a conclusion. "Well, we can safely say that Pitch is still gone, but I do not know about Jack's dreams. Sandy would not create a dream that was about nothing. I will have to ask Jack more about this when he is found."

Tooth bites her lip. "But North, we still don't know where Jack is. Shouldn't we look for him?"

North pats her on the back and exits the workshop. "Do not worry, Tooth. I'm sure that Jack is perfectly fine. He is probably causing mischief somewhere in the world."

Something tells Tooth that he is probably wrong, but she doesn't question it. She follows North out the door.

If only she had lingered a little longer, she might have heard the faint whinny of a horse and seen the last traces of Nightmare Sand slipping into the shadows.

* * *

Pitch strokes the mane of his beloved Nightmare, and smiles at the news it delivers to him.

"So the Guardians think I'm dead and Jack is fine, hm? Oh, they are wrong, they are most certainly wrong. No, no, I plan to come back, yes I do. And the boy will be _very _instrumental in helping me achieve my goal."

He leans back into his throne and lets out a contented sigh. The Nightmare, though, is not finished. Quietly neighing into its' master's ear, it watches as Pitch suddenly sits upright.

"You found...what?" The horse nudges his hand with its snout and pushes something into his hand. Pitch can see a rusted locket on a delicate silver chain. "What...?" Feeling with his fingers, he finds the clasp and taps it. The locket opens, and a picture is revealed. He stares at it for quite a long time, for the girl in the photograph seems awfully familiar. Vaguely, in his head, he can make out something, or rather _someone _chanting the same words, over and over again.

Absolutely bewildered at the mantra, Pitch snaps the locket shut. The voice ceases immediately, and he elicits a sigh of relief. He looks up, about to ask why his Nightmare has brought him this strange object.

The Nightmare takes this opportunity to lunge at its master.


	5. Inquisitive

**Thanks to everyone who followed/reviewed/favorited this story.**

**Yeah...sorry for the very, very, very late update. **

**The very, very, very, long period where I did not update though, was used to create an actual plot! Yay! I know what I'm doing now!**

**Hopefully, with an understanding of my own plot, I can write chapters faster.**

* * *

He arrives just in time to pull the Nightmare off of the terrified Pitch, who, it seems is not quite as strong as Jack initially thought. The Nightmare, bemused at the sudden appearance of the white haired boy, lets out an earsplitting shriek and dissipates into thin air.

Pitch's yellow eyes meet his own blue ones, and he watches as the Nightmare King hastily shoves something into his expansive robes and looks away.

"So, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Jack questions, bewildered as to why Pitch's most loyal servant would decide to turn against its master.

"No." The answer is short, forlorn, and very much unlike the silky tone that is usually associated with Pitch.

Jack feels slight annoyance rising up inside of him, and he snaps, "Oh, so you drag me down here, try to confuse me with your sneaky and shadowy ways , turn insane and break my ribs, make a feeble effort to heal me, and you won't tell me what you're doing?"

For one second, Jack can see his own confusion and slight panic reflected in those yellow eyes, but then, the old Pitch is back. "Well, if I'm going to use you to achieve my goals, I can't have you dying on me, now can I? A rotting corpse serves no purpose, after all, with the exception of being food for my Nightmares. And, concerning that particular Nightmare, I suppose that it simply turned violent, perhaps as a defect in its creation? My powers are not what they used to be."

"What _are _you going to use me for anyway? Because whatever you're planning, it won't work." Jack replies, perturbed by Pitch's answer and at the same time, furious with the small part of himself that believed that Pitch had some form of compassion in him.

"Dear Jack, as I just said, my powers are not what they used to be. Currently, I cannot leave this realm of shadows. No, in my formation, I am bound to the world. Obviously, I am not satisfied with this. _You_ will become the catalyst I require in order to return to my full strength. And indeed, I have absolute faith that it will work." Pitch smirks at him, his lips turning up at the corners as he explains his reasoning.

Blue eyes narrow in disbelief. "And what make you so sure that I'll help you? In fact, I'll destroy you before you can even get to where you're dreaming of!"

The smirk turns into a full blown leer, and Jack notices, far too late, the gray hand coming toward his face, black sand trailing from clawed fingertips.

"Because," Pitch whispers, "You want to have _fun."_

Before Jack can fully process the message, his vision goes dark and succumbs to sleep.

* * *

_Tooth asks him why._

_She gazes up at him with pleading magenta eyes that beg to know the reasoning behind this._

_He turns away, a smile crawling across his face as he surveys the room, his eyes coming to rest on the horrified faces of Bunnymund and North, and the cold, silent disapproval in Sandy's expression._

_Rivulets of crimson drip from his hands, and he imagines the thoughts that are running through the heads of his used-to-be allies._

_'We raised a monster.' The thick, rich, heavily accented voice of North enters his subconscious. _

_'I knew he couldn't be trusted. You're a fool, North, for letting him join us.' Bunnymund's criticizing tone enters the conversation._

_Sandy says nothing, obviously, but the look in his eyes tells him all that he ever needs to know._

_He laughs out loud, and suddenly, he can't stop. His sides are hurting and his eyes are streaming with tears, but, even as he covers his face with bloodstained hands, he can't stop laughing. _

_And memories are flashing through his mind, hitting him with the force of a speeding train, and all the while, his breath is coming in short gasps, and he laughs, laughs, laughs away. _

_...they can't see him he realizes. They can't see him. And he wants to scream, wants to be heard, to be seen, but instead, he flies away, and makes the most of his invisibility, using it for his own **amusement**. **Why?**_

_...he talks to the moon, because he has no one else. He does not once think of blaming the moon for his predicament. He smiles at the moon and pretends that it embodies safety. He smiles at it, sometimes jokes with it. But he does not **resent** it. **Why?**_

_...he throws a snowball, with unerring accuracy at the back of an unsuspecting child's head. The child whips around, and accuses his friends, none of which take the blame, and soon, it is a full-on snowball war. He should be jealous of the children that can be seen. But he simply chuckles at their **playfulness. Why?**_

_...so Jamie thinks Jack Frost is nonexistent, does he? Jack smiles to himself and dreams up ways to make his presence known. He does not feel **rage**. Only disbelief and the urge to prove the brown haired child __wrong. **Why**?_

___...they tell him that he is a Guardian, after 500 years of solitude. And this time, Jack does feel **resentment**, he does feel **rage**. But he pushes it down, once he receives an answer and pretends that everything is all right. **Why? **_

___...and Tooth asks him **why**._

___"Because Tooth, it's **fun.**"_

* * *

Pitch gazes down at the fitfully sleeping boy that rests at the bottom of his throne.

He knows with a certainty that Jack is dreaming of what Pitch intended, if only a little twisted from Jack's own perceptions.

_Yes,_ he muses, _this is how I will bend you to my will, winter spirit. Every time you close your eyes, you will see the images I have placed in your head, and, like a Nightmare corrupts a dream, your thoughts will turn dark and twisted, and then, all the pieces of the game will fall into place and I will have what I want. _

For a second, Pitch's hand twitches toward the locket inside the folds of his black robes. Then, after a pause, the hand falls away and returns to its original spot in Pitch's lap.

Jack turns in his sleep, muttering something unintelligible, and Pitch smiles.

_This is how it will happen, and you cannot stop it._

_Dream on, Jack Frost, dream on._

_Soon, the world will be mine._


	6. Solitude

**Thanks to everyone who followed/reviewed/favorited this story.**

* * *

Jack wakes up, his throat dry and his mind numb with sheer horror and realization.

_It's fun._

The phrase echoes in his mind, and he lets out a strangled laugh that sounds more like a sob in his ears. He places his head in his hands and shudders at the absolute potency of his dreams. Was Pitch able to create things like that all along?

It's all too soon when he realizes he has an audience.

Pitch smiles at him, looking reminiscent of the cheshire cat as he purrs, "Did you have a nice dream, Jack?"

The obscurity of the statement makes Jack want to laugh like he did in his dream, and he almost does. Pitch somehow senses this, commenting, "Go ahead, by all means, laugh. I won't judge you if you do. Unlike those wretched _allies _of yours would. Speaking of which, have you considered my generous offer?"

Jack moves further away for the Nightmare King, staring at him in disbelief. "You're asking me if I'm going to help you? Of course I won't!"

"Oh, Jackie-boy," Pitch begins, smirking at Jack's cringe at the nickname, "How naive and foolish you are. Somehow, you have deluded yourself into believing that you have a _choice_ in this matter. You don't obviously. You have two options: You can live out the rest of your eternal life down here, with me as your company, or you can help me, and if you're good, _maybe _I'll let you go. And don't even think about the Guardians. I will not lie to you, they _are _starting to become worried about you, but, they can't find you if they don't where to look. So, you don't have a choice. But then again, you never did, did you?"

Pitch leans back into his chair, grinning like a child who received his Christmas presents a week early.

At the thought of Christmas, the image of North's bloodied face with eyes that used to see wonder dulled by the myopia of betrayal. Jack quashes the thought immediately because he cannontcannotcannot_willnot_cannot think about that.

Unknown to Jack, Pitch celebrates internally, already beginning to see the first pieces of his plan falling into place.

* * *

The room is quiet, the silence tense and palpable. Cheerful decorations adorn the walls, sparkling in the fluorescence of the lamp lights. None of the rooms current occupants however, are in the mood for cheer.

North says it first, the fact that is so painfully obvious to them all. "Jack is missing."

Tooth closes her magenta eyes, berating herself for letting this happen.

Bunnymund stands up, glaring daggers at North. "Gee, thanks, mate. As if that wasn't obvious already. The kid ain't missing, he probably just ran off like he always does!"

Sandy latches a small but firm hand on Bunnymund's wrist. He conveys a silent message to the incensed Pooka with his sepia orbs.

The irritated Aussie sits down with a huff. "So, what're we going to do, North?"

The Russian man sighs, the burden of this heavy news making his visage more wizened than usual.

Bunnymund continues. "I know we should be trying to find him, but that little bugger could be anywhere! Where do we even _start?!_"

The reply the downtrodden North supplies shocks them all.

"I do not know."

He hates that he doesn't know because he is supposed to be the _leader_ in all this, the one protecting them and keeping them safe, and he _failed_ because Jack is now _gone._ He had hoped that once Pitch was finally defeated, they could have peace at last.

He senses that the other Guardians are having similar thoughts.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and whether his contrite apology his for Jack or the ones that he failed, he really does not know.

* * *

Pitch watches the spirit sleeping at his feet, attempting to distract himself, to do _anything _that rips his attention away from the pull of the enigmatic locket.

Unfortunately, this only diverts his attention towards a subject far more painful than the one he is trying to avoid.

His resurrection.

* * *

_His treacherous servants haul him away, wrapping snaky tendrils around his ankles. They are pulling him backwards, down into the deepest, darkest pits of hell._

_This isn't what he wanted, he thinks. _

_He does not want to be alone. _

_Not again._

_He looks up, and for one second, time is frozen as the blue orbs of Jack Frost bore into his._

_The moment soon passes, and he is dragged away._

* * *

_He awakens, some time later, to the soft whinny of a Nightmare._

_Mistakenly, he believes that they have forgiven him for his sins. He reaches out to the creature with a trembling hand. _

_The sudden gleam in the horse's eyes is slightly off-putting, but nevertheless, he persists._

_The price he pays for his __naiveté is not a small one._

* * *

_Their teeth are sharp, like his, he thinks, as they tear into his flesh, slowly consuming his physical body._

_He had not known that he could bleed until this moment, really. _

_But the evidence is there, rivers of crimson flowing from tiny puncture marks, meeting in a confluence of ragged skin._

_It **hurts, **it really, truly does.  
_

_Almost enough to make him lose his mind._

_But he will not. They will devour his body, that is inevitable, but they will not take his mind._

_He smiles as a set of teeth, so cold, like alabaster marble in the winter night pierces a previously unscathed skin._

_No, he thinks. They will not destroy his mind._

_His mind will destroy itself._

* * *

_It is quiet, **and** it is dark._

_The dark is good._

_In the black abyss of his own hell, he cannot see the accusing eyes of those he has condemned a life of servitude. He is blind to his prone form, oblivious to the torn flesh clinging to ivory bone and the vast sea of red surrounding him._

_He feels quite comfortable in the oblivion, actually._

_As one who was spawned from the shadows and nurtured by hate, the darkness is his lifelong __companion._

_But in the quiet, he feels as if the darkness has abandoned him._

_In the silence, he is alone, and he has no choice but to dwell upon his miserable existence._

_Yes, he is alone._

_It is quiet, **but** it is dark._

_It cannot possibly be both._

* * *

_It is not so silent anymore._

_There are whispers._

_Yes, whispers of emotion brushing past his slowly healing skin, trailing down his arms with feather-light touches._

_**"Rise."** They impel him, their taciturn words speaking in volumes.  
_

_He feels it now._

_The strengthening of his brittle, cracked bones, the vanishing of dried, crusted blood from pale skin, the mending of flesh long torn asunder by the bite of demons._

**_"Emerge from the silence, Nightmare King, and rise. You are born from fear, and because it continues to exist, so will you." _**

_Perhaps the darkness has not abandoned him after all._

_As if the whispers hear his thoughts, they chuckle, swishing along his cheek with a semblance of affection._

_**"No, we have not. Now, come. Find the boy, the boy that has made your rebirth possible."** _

_He sees it then: An ocean of cerulean, with a mixture of sadness and victory swimming inside.  
_

**_"You see him, do you not?"_**_  
_

_He does._

**_"Then let us go. As a phoenix rises from the ashes, you will rise from the remnants of fear."_**

_He stands, feeling the will to move for the first time in an eternity._

_Yes, he thinks. He will be reborn anew, and he will have his revenge._

_He moves away from the silence as the darkness surrounds him, comforting him with its presence._

_**"You will never be alone." **  
_


End file.
